


Going Up

by frankincense



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: I Tried, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 14:01:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4831694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankincense/pseuds/frankincense
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"@WORLDLWT: AU where Louis and Harry are complete strangers trapped in a hot elevator. Clothes are removed."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Going Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WORLDLWT](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WORLDLWT/gifts).



> I couldn't help but write this prompt, but all credit goes to @WORLDLWT (who is amazing, might I add). It's my first time writing anything remotely smutty so give me a break. This was fun to write, hopefully it's fun to read. Also this is completely unchecked so sorry if there are any mistakes. If there are, let me know on twitter (@kingaimh).

Louis isn't often late for work. Okay, that's a complete lie, Louis is nearly always late for work. However, when he catches his reflection in the mirror and assesses his perfectly coiffed hair and royal blue suit, he concludes that it's absolutely worth spending that extra ten minutes every morning on making sure he looks good enough to eat.  A crisp white shirt and tight fitted pants that cling just the right amount to his arse are part of his every day wardrobe and it's only those close to him that get to see his fringe soft and unstyled and feathery. Today it's sharp, and he's proud.

It's August, and the heat is stifling but Louis still shrugs on his blazer, fastening one button to accentuate his waist. Working in fashion, you can't afford to let the heat deter you. Plus, Louis was never one to compromise. He enters his work building 7 minutes after he's supposed to be there, but considering he's the boss, he figures it's not too much of an issue. As long as he arrives, and he looks good, then nobody can complain. Waiting at the door is a young woman holding out a steaming hot coffee which Louis knows is for him, and despite the fact that it's the dead of summer, Louis thanks her and takes it as he passes her, sipping distractedly as he makes his way towards the elevator.

As he reaches to press the button which will take him to his floor, he hears an undignified "WAIT!". Usually Louis would ignore anyone who was planning to take the same elevator as him, as a man who appreciates his own space, but something about the thighs he can see striding towards him has him holding the doors open to allow them inside.  The thighs, he eventually notes, are attached to the rest of a human being. A human being who smells like Tom Ford and looks like Mick Jagger had sex with an entire YSL collection. Louis isn't sure he disapproves of this notion after shamelessly dragging his eyes slowly upwards to meet the gaze of Baby Jagger.

"Thanks, man. Don't have time to be waiting round for another." Mr. Legs is panting as he speaks, and has a slight sheen of sweat covering his skin. Louis' isn't sure whether it's from the physical exertion of invading Louis' space or from the sweltering heat, but it takes a superhuman amount of discipline to drag his eyes away from this man's contracting jaw-line to stare at the closing elevator doors. He presses his floor number without asking, and places both hands behind his back in fear that if he doesn't, he might run his fingers through a complete stranger's sweaty hair. Fantastic.

"No worries." Louis hopes that his crossed fingers aren't too obvious, a silent wish that their interaction will be kept to a minimum. His hopes are swiftly crushed by the fact that his companion seems determined to ruin Louis' day.

"I'm Harry Styles, by the way. I'm supposed to be at a shoot on the twentieth floor but I got caught in traffic. Plus I couldn't decide what to wear, I mean fuck it's hot. "

Louis doesn't recall asking, but if he's going to be dragged into a conversation, he may as well play along. He turns to reply and it's only then that he fully clocks what Harry is wearing. Tight black jeans accentuate ridiculously long legs, which are only made longer by the black heeled boots that adorn his feet. What really catches Louis' eye though is the collection of tattoos scattered across his torso, which is barely hidden by a sheer black shirt. Even if the shirt hadn't been sheer, Louis is sure he would still have had an eye-full because in his haste Harry had clearly forgotten to do more than two buttons up. Louis isn't exactly complaining ,but he can never resist an opportunity to tease, even if it is a complete stranger.

"Took you that long to get dressed and you still couldn't manage to button up your shirt?"

Harry grins and fuck, how can he make a dimple look cocky?

"It's fashion, darling." Harry drawls, and dear lord he's posh.  Louis has to refrain from pinching his brow in frustration.  "Although I'm sure you're very aware of that. If I knew I was going to be in Louis Tomlinson's elevator maybe I would have done up a few more buttons. Then again, maybe not."

Louis lets out an actual sigh at that, which only causes Harry's eyes to light up in amusement. Louis hates being teased.

As Louis opens his mouth to let Harry know that the amount of buttons he does up in no way affects Louis, he's interrupted by the sound of the elevator grinding to a halt. At first, Louis' assumes that they've reached his floor, and he perks up at the fact that he might be getting out of this situation sooner than he thought. However, instead of the opening doors and an obnoxious voice announcing which floor they're on, they're plunged into darkness for five seconds, before an emergency green light comes on.  Fuck.

"Fuck." Louis hears from besides him, and in his panic he'd almost forgotten he wasn't alone. They both turn to each other, teasing put aside for a moment to be replaced with a very real worry.

"Fuck." Louis echoes. As Harry begins messing with the buttons on the control panel and muttering about being late, Louis just stares foreward in absolute disbelief. Just his fucking luck.

After five minutes of pressing buttons to no avail, Harry throws his hands up in defeat and turns to Louis.

"Don't look at me, I have no idea what to do."

"You're the boss here, you have to be able to do something."

"I'm the editor of a magazine, not a bloody fireman, Mr. Styles." Louis bites back in annoyance. They both seem to register the temperature of the elevator at the same time, because Harry swipes his hand across his forehead just as Louis pulls at the sleeves of his blazer. He's desperate to remove it, but there's something about taking his clothes off in an elevator with an attractive man that doesn't scream professionalism. Instead, he slumps down on the floor in resignation, and puts his face in his hands, coffee long forgotten.  

After ten minutes of absolutely nothing, Louis decides that he doesn't care about professionalism any longer, and shrugs his blazer off. Once that's off , he also decides to take a leaf out of Harry's book, and he unbuttons his shirt til halfway down. As he kicks his brogues off, they clatter against the black boots that he hadn't noticed had been sitting in the middle of the floor. Harry must be feeling the heat too, Louis'  reckons, and he turns to see how his companion is holding out. What he's greeted with is fucking obscene.

Harry has his head thrown back and his eyes shut, and his chest is completely bare and shining slightly. Now that Louis can see all of his tattoos he can't bring himself to look away. His eyes travel across his torso, noting the ferns decorating his ridiculous hips and the birds on his collarbones. Eyes travelling even further up, he's met with Harry's open eyes, locked onto his.

The silence that had previously been slightly awkward fizzles with something more electric now that Harry has caught Louis blatantly checking him out. Louis tries to look away but Harry opens his mouth to speak and Louis' eyes are instantly drawn to a pair of full, pink lips. Louis is so busy wondering if Harry wears lipstick that he doesn't catch what Harry says.

"Hmm?"

"I said, you look like you're struggling there."

"Struggling?"

"Yeah. That shirt is too nice to be ruined by sweat, don't you think?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Louis scoffs, to hide the fact that he's slightly breathless, "not all of us appreciate nudity."

"Oh, is that so?" Harry's lopsided grin is lazy and seductive and really annoying, Louis decides. That thought quickly dissipates when Harry's chest muscles contract as he fully shrugs his shirt off.

"Well, don't mind me then." Harry is leant against the side of the elevator, with one knee up and the other leg outstretched. He looks, Louis thinks with irony, like a model. Harry runs one hand through his hair to brush it out of his face, and the other moves to his belt buckle.

Louis swallows heavily, and blames the heat on the fact that he may have just licked his lips. As Harry unfastens his belt, Louis' restraint breaks.

"Fuck it, I'm hot."

He jumps to his feet and undoes the rest of his shirt buttons with very little dignity, throwing it onto the floor in a manner which would have his stylist wincing. He runs both hands through his quiff to make sure it hasn't completely collapsed, and is infinitely pleased to see Harry's eyes trained on the movement of Louis' chest.

"You're not wrong there." Harry's voice is slightly raw, and he also stands up so that they're a mere inch or two apart. Louis' is so distracted by the fact that Harry is a good head or so taller than him that he doesn't even notice that Harry's pupils are blown until Harry's nose nudges underneath Louis' jaw to bring his attention back to his face.

Louis doesn't know how much longer he can handle just being observed by Harry, but he can barely bring himself to be embarrassed by the fact that his breathing is no longer steady. Harry seems intent on dragging this out though, as he ghosts his lips along Louis' jaw and down his neck. The almost-contact has Louis leaning in involuntarily, and he rocks forwards onto his tiptoes as Harry's lips move down to graze Louis' bare collarbones, still refusing to actually touch him.

Deciding he's had enough, Louis grabs Harry's jaw and forces him to look at him, in the hopes that he'll finally be kissed. Harry clearly has other plans, as he nudges his nose along Louis', an action that in any other situation would be cute. Here in this hot elevator, with only their dress pants on, it feels more like foreplay. Louis half wonders if Harry can see pure hunger in his eyes, but he can't fully bring himself to care. As if it weren't obvious by now how much he wants it.

Finally, finally Harry kisses him. The moment their lips make contact, Louis' hands find themselves in Harry's hair, and he tugs hard, pulling the both of them backwards until Louis' back hits the wall of the elevator. He breaks the kiss to gasp at the cold metal against his skin, and Harry takes that opportunity to bite at Louis' lower lip. Louis' nearly swears out loud, but instead he pulls Harry back in to a kiss, and drags his hands down the curve of Harry's spine. The light pressure of his nails causes Harry to arch into him, and the angle they're pressed against the wall means that kissing turns into grinding pretty quickly. If Louis was thinking coherently he'd be impressed with how quickly Harry managed to get him this hard, but currently his mind is just a blur of "harryharryharryharryharry". Harry's hands find Louis' arse and in one impressive move he lifts him up so Louis' legs are wrapped around his waist. Louis is impressed for a whole five seconds before the two of them overbalance and they find themselves horizontal, with Louis sat in Harry's lap straddling him. Harry breaks the kiss to laugh, and Louis frowns at the lack of contact.

"Hi, I'm Harry Styles, nice to meet you." Harry grins up at him, and Louis has to try extremely hard not to be completely endeared.

"Shut up and kiss me."

Harry's smile widens for a split second, and then he obeys, pulling Louis back down into a kiss.

 

Hours later, when they're both let out of the elevator considerably more sweaty and a lot more smug, they part ways with each others phone numbers, and multiple love bites to show for it and well...if the shirt Louis is wearing underneath his blazer is black, sheer and decidedly not the one he picked out this morning, then nobody has to know.

 


End file.
